


my baby don't play hard to get

by inkk



Series: the fabulous adventures of fratboy dave & stoner kirk [2]
Category: Megadeth, Metallica
Genre: (lack of) Studying, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Closeted Character, Friends With Benefits, Kirk Hammett's Cross-Campus Booty Call Service, M/M, Rough Sex, Spanking, mild size kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26229781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk
Summary: Kirk turns to look at his backpack, lying forgotten in the corner among the mess of Dave’s dirty clothes. Then he turns back to look at the tantalizing curve of Dave’s fine, shapely ass.He licks his lips. “No, we can— Yeah. It’s fine. I’ll get Lars to do flashcards with me tomorrow.”
Relationships: Kirk Hammett/Dave Mustaine
Series: the fabulous adventures of fratboy dave & stoner kirk [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918543
Comments: 16
Kudos: 46





	my baby don't play hard to get

**Author's Note:**

> what's up !!! i'm back & i’m writing (more) porn for the masses 😳  
> university courses start back up for me today, so i figured i should hurry up and get this one posted before i lose all will to function. feel free to consider it a back-to-school gift ;-)
> 
> shoutout to CrAzYmArY for requesting this sequel, and to everyone else who left a comment on the last one ….. yall are forever helping me get my ass in gear, thank u ♥️
> 
> *ptw for fucking while buzzed, & a hint of undernegotiated kink. everything is consensual.
> 
> bonus: [**fanart**](https://pinkmaggitmp3.tumblr.com/post/631252629274640384/so-uhhhh-fratboy-davestoner-kirk-lives) by the radiant @[pinkmaggit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkmaggit/pseuds/pinkmaggit), AKA the cutest & most wonderful thing ive ever seen in my life !!!

+

Contrary to popular opinion, Kirk fucking loves exam season.

Studying and final assignments aside, there’s much to rejoice about: no more lectures, no more new assignments, no more night class, no more sprinting across campus to catch a bus that starts pulling away just as he’s reaching for the doors…

Sure, the whole “sit in an auditorium for four hours and fill out a sheet of paper that will determine thirty percent of your grade” thing blows ass. But the peace and quiet? The ban on dorm room parties? The sweet, sweet sound of the semester grinding to a halt?

Yeah, Kirk fucking loves it. He thrives on the sheer freedom of twenty-four-hour library access. All of his assignments have been handed in on time, his last research essay is almost done, and once this is all over, he’s looking forward to ordering an extra-large cheese pizza and getting blazed off his face with Lars.

So far, the only thing in his life that is not currently going to plan is Dave Mustaine.

Because Dave Mustaine — formerly known as Dave motherfucking Mustaine — is a slacker, an insufferable jock, and a distraction of epic proportions.

Like right now, for instance: Kirk _should_ be reviewing for his plant science final on Thursday. He _should_ be doing flashcards and rewriting his notes. He _should_ be eating something decently nutritious for dinner and getting a good night's sleep.

Instead, he’s sitting on Dave’s bed doing bong rips at ten P.M.

“What d’you need to know about different kinds of rice for, anyways?” Dave asks archly. He's lying on his stomach in briefs and a ratty t-shirt, chin resting on his forearms by Kirk's left knee like the goddamn picture of relaxation. “Aren't you, like, an English major?”

Kirk shrugs. “Needed one last science elective,” he croaks on the exhale. He coughs a little, holding the bong out for Dave. “You want more? I can pack another, if you want.”

Dave shakes his head. “‘M’good.”

“Yeah, ‘m kinda toasted, too,” Kirk agrees, examining the bowl for leftovers.

Determining it sufficiently burnt, he turns to set the moof and lighter aside on Dave’s nightstand. The cassette came to a halt twenty minutes ago, but neither of them got up to flip it, and Kirk doesn't mind the silence right now. It’s peaceful.

“Where are the rest of the brothers tonight, anyway?” Kirk asks.

Dave sighs. “Dodgeball. Gamma Phi’s playing, and we lost at Pong last week, so we had to send cheerleaders.”

Kirk frowns, blearily rubbing at one eye under his glasses. “You didn't go?”

“None of the costumes fit me.”

Kirk blinks. “Oh,” he says after a second, trying to pretend like his brain isn’t whirring like an overheated computer as he frantically tries to call up the mental image of Dave in a pleated miniskirt.

“And besides,” Dave continues, biceps flexing as he props himself up on his elbows, “I thought I’d rather get you alone.”

“Oh,” Kirk says again.

Dave quirks an eyebrow. “Unless you want to keep studying,” he drawls, because he’s an asshole.

Kirk turns to look at his backpack, lying forgotten in the corner among the mess of Dave’s dirty clothes. Then he turns back to look at the tantalizing curve of Dave’s fine, shapely ass.

He’s weak. He’s so, _so_ very weak, and horny, and buzzed, and the mere prospect of getting laid is enough to instantly make all his braincells dissipate into a fine mist.

Kirk licks his lips. “No, we can— Yeah. It’s fine. I’ll get Lars to do flashcards with me tomorrow.”

Dave’s answering grin is smug. Fucker always gets his way and he knows it.

It’s only been a month since that first fateful hookup, but by now, the two of them have fallen into a strange mutual understanding that could be construed as “friends with benefits” — which essentially just means booty calls, and booty calls, and more booty calls. Dave’s got Kirk so dicklashed it's bordering on ridiculous.

In all honesty, there’s no way in hell Kirk would ever want to end up dating a closet case like Dave Mustaine, but he can't deny that the sex is good. _Really_ good. And although they have practically nothing in common as people, Kirk thinks it’s nice to routinely be able to smoke weed, listen to a record, and come so hard his knees feel like jelly on the walk back to his dorm. He has zero qualms about rolling Dave over onto his back and climbing on top of him, and even less about being yanked down into a kiss.

Next thing Kirk knows, his jeans and briefs are hitting the floor alongside Dave’s clothes, leaving him naked save for his shirt.

For some reason, he can never quite manage to keep his clothes on around Dave.

Kirk is fascinated by how warm Dave is all the time, and how his smooth, bare skin is firm with muscle in a way that Kirk has never really experienced before. He’s big, and strong, and a dumb jock, and Kirk fucking loves it. Loves how easy it is for Dave to manhandle him into position as if he weighs nothing at all.

“Want me to blow you?” Kirk offers between kisses, clumsily spitting in his hand and reaching between them to grasp at the hard length of Dave’s cock.

“I thought,” Dave says with an appreciative hum, trailing his mouth down over Kirk’s jaw, “Maybe we could try something different.”

Kirk swallows, lips parting. Dave’s hand is gripping softly at the nape of his neck, now; a light, controlling presence, contrasting with the slick glide of his tongue against Kirk’s skin. “What do you, uh…”

“I wanna fuck you.”

“Oh,” Kirk says. The sound comes out in a little whoosh of air, his mouth forming an ‘o’. He pulls back so he can look Dave in the eye. “You— anal?”

“Yeah,” Dave says, casually stroking a thumb over the back of Kirk’s neck, circling that little protruding knob of spine. “I mean, why not, right? We’ve done everything else.”

Kirk licks his lips. “Right,” he echoes after a second, the wheels churning in his head. His brain is a little fuzzy from the weed, but the math isn't hard: he took a shit sometime around seven, and then had a shower before coming over, so. “Have you, uh… Have you ever done that before?”

“With a chick, yeah.”

Kirk nods. “Well,” he says, “Okay, man. We can… We can do that, yeah. Do you have, uh—” he waves a hand, “Stuff?”

Beneath him, Dave props himself up on his elbows, jostling Kirk as he twists to the side so he can rummage in one of the drawers beside the bed. He fishes around inside for a second, then tosses a small, unopened bottle of lube at Kirk’s chest.

Kirk flinches, but manages to catch it. “And, uh—”

The condom packet hits him in the forehead.

Dave slides the drawer shut and reclines again, those big hands finding their way back to Kirk’s waist. “Alright?”

“Alright,” Kirk repeats. “I mean, I’ll have to...” he makes a crude jabbing motion with two fingers, his cheeks flushing. “Y’know. I-I wasn't exactly expecting, uh.”

“Yeah,” Dave says, “I know. I wanna watch you do it.” His hands drift down to Kirk's hipbones, briefly toying with the hem of his shirt, then slides both palms around to grab his ass. “That okay?”

“Sure, I just— I-I haven't done this in a while,” Kirk admits with an embarrassed little laugh. “So it might, uh. You might have to go slow.”

“I'm not in a rush,” Dave says, watching him with dark eyes.

He studies Kirk’s face with a heavy gaze as Kirk steels his nerves and sits back a little, twisting the cap off of the lube and tearing off the inner seal before slicking up three fingers. The calculating look on his face is just short of unnerving as Kirk gets comfortable, sitting back on his heels and leaning his torso forward, his left hand landing on Dave’s chest for balance as the first finger slips in.

It’s strangely intimate to do it like this. Kirk leans in for a kiss and tries for a second finger right away, focusing on the feeling of Dave’s lips, soft and plush against his own. The heat of their breath intermingles and Kirk breathes out a soft sigh, nudging his nose up against Dave’s cheek as he pushes back against his own hand.

Kirk’s always considered prep a bit of a hindrance — a little awkward, a little slow, usually something that he does on his own time in order to expedite the process — but this isn't bad. He likes the closeness of it. Likes being plastered up against Dave, looking down into his face, feeling electrified at the rapture he sees there.

Dave can walk around full of piss and vinegar and black coffee all day, but right here, alone with Kirk, he’s nice like milk and honey.

“Good boy,” Dave tells him quietly, brushing the hair out of his face. “So fuckin’ pretty, getting yourself ready for me.”

Kirk lets out a shaky, exhilarated laugh. He curls and twists his fingers a moment, trying to relax into the feeling. Dave’s hands drop to his ass, smoothing over the backs of his thighs and spreading his cheeks, alternating between gripping and releasing. 

“Think it'll fit?” Dave teases. His fingers wander further, drifting down, tracing around the sensitive rim of Kirk’s asshole where his fingers are buried inside of himself. “God, you're fuckin’ tight, baby.”

Kirk's cheeks are burning. He squirms as he tries to spread his legs a little further to accommodate a third finger, frustrated by the slight resistance. “Hold on, lemme—”

He sits back on his heels and takes a deep breath, blindly groping around in the sheets with his clean hand for the lube. His fingers find the bottle at Dave’s hip, but before he can pop the lid, Dave’s hand closes around his.

“Can I?”

Kirk pauses, blinking owlishly down at him. “Oh,” he says after a second. “If you, uh— I mean, i-if you want.”

“I do,” Dave says, with casual, unshakeable conviction. “I think it's fuckin’ hot.”

Kirk swallows hard. He lets Dave take the lube.

He takes the liberty of peeling off his shirt while Dave slicks up, wiping his fingers on the hem and leaving it within reach just in case. The mess doesn't concern him; he figures he can just steal one of Dave’s once they're done.

Dave really goes to town with the lube, too. His fingers are glistening with it, slippery and wet, and there's a translucent smear trailing down his knuckles. Kirk’s cock twitches a little at the sight. He shuffles forwards on his knees, settling himself more firmly over Dave’s stomach.

His breathing stutters a little when Dave reaches behind him, spreading his ass with one hand and using the other to trace a teasing finger over his asshole. He feels himself clench up a little despite himself.

Dave’s lips pull up into a pleased smirk. “Nervous?”

Kirk leans forward, arms on either side of Dave’s head, and rocks his hips down once to take the edge off. “Just— Shut up and finger me, dick.”

“Brat,” Dave mutters, devoid of any real heat. His eyes are intent on Kirk’s face as he slowly, slowly pushes in with one digit.

Kirk can feel the way his body tenses and flutters at the intrusion. He ducks his head a little in embarrassment, hair falling into his face as he shifts his hips a little. It’s been a while since he last had anything up his ass, and it's— it’s good. Really good. Way better when someone else does it. Dave’s hands are so much bigger than his own, and they're perfect for this; long-fingered and broad, with close-cropped nails and fingertips roughened from hours at the gym. They feel like heaven as he slips in with a second.

The third is where the stretch really starts, but Dave is patient; he takes his time curling and flexing and twisting his fingers, going slow, all the while sucking hickeys into the skin of Kirk’s neck. There’s so much lube that it’s running down his balls, making wet little noises each time Dave languidly pushes in.

Time seems to stretch out for a while as Dave methodically works him open. Kirk’s awareness narrows down to just the hunger in Dave's eyes and the fingers in his ass, the room around them silent except for Dave’s steady breaths and his own ragged, shaky panting. He’s pretty sure that’s the pot talking; it makes everything just a little more relaxed, a little more intense. A little more sensory. Kirk’s fucked people high on coke, acid, shrooms, ecstasy, and ketamine, but weed will always be his favourite.

Experimentally, Dave pulls out and pushes back in with just his index finger — swirling around for a second, then crookinging forward, the pad of it gently rubbing over Kirk’s prostate.

Kirk's mouth drops open on a groan. His brow furrows slightly in surprise. “That’s— Oh, god.”

For some reason, he finds it both surprising and entirely unsurprising that Dave Mustaine is giving him a goddamn prostate massage. And then he loses that train of thought entirely, because _oh, wait,_ it feels so fucking good he doesn't even care.

Dave slips back in with two, repeating the motion. Kirk gives a pathetic little whine and plants his hands on Dave’s chest for balance. He can’t help himself from grinding down a little, rocking down against the faint pressure of Dave's fingers, his own cock leaving a little smear of precome on Dave’s stupid, sexy abs.

“I’m ready,” he blurts out in a breathless rush. “C’mon, Dave, please just— Please. Otherwise I’m gonna come, and I…”

Dave grins. He withdraws his fingers and wipes them on Kirk’s discarded t-shirt, then grabbles for the lube and the condom packet that has somehow worked its way under his ass. “How d'you want it, baby? You wanna sit on my cock?”

Kirk nods like a goddamn bobblehead. Truthfully, he cannot think of a single thing on Earth he’d rather do more right now.

He has to shift around for a second to get into position, ignoring the slight burn in his thighs as he shuffles backwards. He sits back on raised heels to watch Dave stroke himself back to a full erection and rip the condom open with his teeth, rolling it on in one smooth, practiced motion before tossing the wrapper onto the floor and reaching for the lube. Once again, he absolutely slathers himself in it. 

Kirk never thought watching someone apply lube could be classified as a sensual experience, but hey; what the hell. He’s learnt a lot about his sexuality over the past four weeks.

“Ready?” Kirk asks, licking his lips.

Dave grabs at his hips and tugs him in closer. “Yeah, baby. C’mon.”

Kirk’s very last flicker of uncertainty comes when he reaches behind himself to grasp Dave’s cock and line up. He gives a couple cursory tugs and guides it up against himself, fist not managing to close around it, and the thought flashes through his mind in neon letters:

_Shit, that’s big._

And like... Kirk’s been fisted before, okay? He can take it. He knows he can. But it's been a solid few months since he’s properly shoved anything up his asshole, so it’s a little intimidating, and he really doesn't want to embarrass himself here, and—

The head pops in. Kirk yelps a little, a gasped-out curse tumbling off his tongue.

“Oh, _fuck,_ ” he hears Dave say.

Kirk’s gaze drags back up to meet his, hazy and slow as he spreads his thighs as far as they’ll go and starts sinking down. He has to bite his lip on a whimper, feeling his eyes water a little despite himself. Dave’s thumbs start to dig in a little where they're resting on his hip bones.

It’s not that bad. It hurts, sure, but in that weird way that makes Kirk want to move towards the pain instead of away from it. And his ass is fucking drenched in lube, which helps. The only real holdup here is that Dave is fucking _thick_ — the girth of him feels enormous going in, inch by painstaking inch, stretching Kirk so wide his thighs tremble. He’s so turned on he thinks he’s going to die.

“So fucking tight,” Dave murmurs, his voice a little strained. He reaches down with a curious hand, thumbing at the tight stretch of skin where Kirk’s ass is swallowing him up. “Look so pretty on my cock, baby, like you were fucking made for this.”

Looking down at the look of sheer dulia on Dave’s face as Kirk finally slides all the way home, it's not hard to believe.

And the sheer sensation of bottoming out is—

It’s a lot.

Kirk has to still for a second to adjust, breathing hard. He flexes his thighs a little, slumping forward, skin clammy with the beginnings of sweat.

“How’s it feel?” Dave asks. He raises his other hand to push the hair out of Kirk’s face in a gesture so inexplicably tender it makes Kirk’s toes curl.

“Big,” Kirk chokes out on a shuddering inhale, raising one hand to rest on his own stomach, as if he can feel Dave there. “It feels so fucking— Please, I-I want...”

He rocks minutely forward, letting out the sluttiest moan imaginable. “Oh, god.”

The rhythm is jerky and stilted at first. Kirk’s thighs are already burning, and he’s barely even started; he feels clumsy and slow as he rolls his hips, trying to get the right angle, feeling Dave so deep it's like he's in Kirk’s guts. Below him, Dave is gripping onto his hips and biting his lip so hard it’s turning white.

It takes a minute or two for Kirk to work up a decent pace. He can feel a thin sheen of sweat starting to form on his lower back, a few stray curls of hair plastering themselves to his forehead. Dave is thrusting up to meet him, but in this position, it's awkward and lacks proper leverage.

He’s just about to get frustrated when Dave cuts in, breathing fast, says, “You wanna climb off a sec? Let me do the work?”

Kirk’s head lolls forward in a relieved nod. The muscles in his thighs protest as he pulls himself forward, leaning into Dave’s chest, letting Dave’s cock slip out of him with a wet sound and a thin trickle of lube. His mouth drops open on a groan as his asshole briefly clenches around nothing, and then Dave’s fingers are back, sliding up his perineum and dipping inside.

Kirk chokes out a whimper, buying his face in the comforting weed-smell of Dave’s hair. “Please.”

Dave laughs. “You want my cock?” he muses, turning his head to nudge his nose up against Kirk’s cheek. “Want me to fill you up? Fuck you so hard you can't sit right tomorrow?”

His tone is soft and amused, breath hot against Kirk’s ear. Kirk squirms and shifts his hips again, his dick dragging over Dave’s stomach.

“Tell me,” Dave says, teasing.

“Please, just fuck me. Please, Dave, I-I can’t— I don't—”

Dave just laughs. That motherfucker.

He urges Kirk to roll off, guiding him with steady hands until he’s flipped over onto his elbows and knees. Kirk’s glasses are starting to fog up with his own breath, and he takes the opportunity to pull them off of his face and clumsily set them down on the nightstand beside the bong; he gets the feeling he’s about to get fucked hard — as in Hard with a capital H, otherwise known as ‘bitemarks-in-the-pillow’ hard — and he’d really, really have his only pair of glasses intact for his exam on Thursday.

As Dave shuffles in behind him, Kirk feels his stomach tense up in anticipation. His feet flex a little against the bedding. “C’mon,” he hears himself say, breathy and desperate, “Just— Put it in, man, c’mon.”

Dave doesn't.

Stupid fucker. Kirk’s fucking gagging for it, ass in the air, but apparently Dave feels the need to take his time to play with his cheeks first, spreading him open, feeling him up. Asshole.

Kirk makes a little grunt of frustration and turns his face into the pillow. “Dude, I don't…”

Then Dave smacks his ass — _hard_ — and Kirk promptly loses track of everything he was about to say.

He jerks in surprise, muscles springing taut like piano wire, lips parting on a sharp inhale. His entire body goes completely still for a second. They've never even discussed spanking before, but— "Oh, fuck."

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kirk turns his face to groan into the pillow, “Shit, you can— You should— _Yeah_.”

Behind him, Dave laughs. Kirk barely has time to brace himself before Dave is winding up with the next, palm connecting with his left asscheek in a thunderous clap. Kirk grits his teeth and rocks his hips from side to side. It stings like hell, but his cock is drooling precum onto the bedding, a little wet spot forming between his legs, and it's—

“Again,” he gasps. “Do it again.”

By the tenth blow, there are tears sliding down his nose, wetting the pillowcase. Kirk’s hands are curled tight into fists. He feels fucking delirious, head spinning like he’s drunk instead of stoned.

“Should see your ass,” Dave mutters, rubbing over the hot, burning skin. “Pink’s a good colour on you, Hammett. Look so fucking ruined already.”

Kirk squirms, swallowing a sob. “Fuck me, please, Dave, just— Fuck me.”

Dave doesn't waste any more time. He gives himself a few strokes, lines up, and slides in hard. Kirk groans loudly, brokenly, his fists clenching and unclenching around fistfuls of bedding.

“So fucking tight,” Dave growls, hips colliding with Kirk’s freshly-beaten ass, and a dazed part of Kirk thinks _duh, ‘cause your dick’s fucking huge, dude_ , but he doesn't bother saying it, because he’s too busy smothering himself with the pillow. The fabric is wet with saliva beneath his mouth as he muffles his whimpers.

He’d be embarrassed, if he could breathe. As it is, he’s content to let himself sink further into the feeling, moans filtering out into the pillowcase, cock bouncing flushed and heavy and begging for attention between his legs.

“C’mon, let me hear you,” Dave grunts behind him. All of a sudden he's gripping Kirk by the hair and tugging his head to the side, out of his arms, out of the pillow, forcing a cry from his throat. “There’s no one else here, baby, go ahead and make it loud.”

He picks up the pace, nailing Kirk hard and fast, practically shoving him forward on the bed a little with each thrust. It’s fucking relentless. He’s still holding Kirk’s hair in the one hand, giving it a yank as he snaps his hips forwards, and Kirk lets out a wail so loud it could possibly be classified as a goddamn caterwaul.

“Fuck, you like that?” Dave pants. “You like it when I treat you rough? Take what I want?”

Kirk wants to say something like ‘ _yeah, fuck me harder, make me your bitch_ ’, but he can't find the words. All that's coming out is a combination of vowels and breathless gasps. At this pace, he can't even rock back to meet Dave; all he can do is take it with his thighs spread wide, ass in the air, chest bowed low to the mattress.

It’s too much and not enough all at once. He’s hard and leaking and unable to catch a proper breath, but he still can't come, not from this alone.

“Touch me,” Kirk finally begs. “Please, Dave, I-I wanna come, can you—”

“Yeah, baby, gonna take care of you,” Dave mutters, reaching around Kirk’s hip to take him in hand.

He has to slow down a little to build up a rhythm between his hips and his fist. It feels like Kirk’s trapped between the two points of contact, torn between rocking forward and back and unable to do either, anyways, because Dave’s plastered so tightly against his back he can barely move.

“Fuck,” Kirk groans. “ _Fuck_.”

Dave squeezes and twists his wrist, thumbing over the head of his cock, and gives a solid yank on Kirk’s hair with the other hand. Kirk chokes out a sob and cries out again and then he’s gasping for breath and coming hard into Dave’s fist, making a mess of the sheets, his entire field of vision greying the fuck out for a minute.

“Shit,” he hears Dave hiss. “Fuck, can I—?”

“Y-Yeah,” Kirk slurs, “Keep going, c’mon.”

His body is limp, upper half slumping pathetically into the mattress as Dave pulls out. Kirk’s knees slide a little wider of their own accord, and Dave takes a moment to rearrange their position, pulling Kirk's thighs back and letting him drop until he’s lying on his stomach on the bed, spent and loose and oversensitive.

Dave pries his legs apart and shifts back up the bed until he’s on top of Kirk, hot skin pressed up against his back. The head of his cock catches for a second, and then Dave grunts once as he slides home in one long, slow push.

Kirk whimpers. His body shudders in protest, cock twitching underneath him. It’s too much, too soon; Dave’s slower about it this time, dragging in and out at a languid pace, but it feels even filthier than before. Kirk’s fingers scrabble and claw to grip at the bedding, his eyes welling up with fresh tears, feet curling and legs trembling, breath coming in short puffs as Dave chases after his finish. As Dave _uses_ him.

Dave nudges up against his prostate and Kirk flinches, hard, voice cracking as a pained moan falls out of his mouth.

“Fuck,” Dave says. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna—”

Kirk buries his face in the pillow and nods. “Do it,” he gasps. “Come in me, come on.”

Half a dozen sharp thrusts later, he does. Dave’s cock gives a jerk and he spills into the condom with a groan, panting filthy praise in Kirk’s ear as he works himself through it.

His hips rock forward a few more times, shallowly, and then he stills, breathing a low curse. His head drops to Kirk’s shoulder and rests there a second, the two of them lying in a boneless heap as they catch their breath.

Kirk groans again when Dave pulls out, softening cock slipping from his ass. He feels fucking wrecked; sticky with sweat, lying in his own mess, his asscheeks on fire and his hole aching like he just got plowed by a fucking freight train.

The mattress dips a little as Dave sits up on the side of the bed and ties the condom off, tossing it in the direction of the wastebasket. Kirk doesn't check to see if it lands.

“Shit,” Dave finally says, breaking the silence. “I didn't realize you were such a kinky motherfucker, Hammett.”

Kirk gives a noncommittal grunt and rolls over onto his back, a satisfied smile tugging at his lips. His thighs are coated in lube and his stomach is sticky, spunk starting to dry in his pubes, but he can't be bothered to wipe off. He’s too tired to even consider taking a shower. The mattress underneath him is splattered with jizz, too, but that’s Dave’s problem.

Not that Dave seems concerned. He’s already up and getting dressed again — for what purpose, Kirk doesn't know; if he had it his way, he’d stare at that naked body all day long. He’s content to watch with half-lidded eyes as Dave bends over to step back into his underwear, that beautiful cock hanging soft and limp between his thighs.

“You good?” Dave asks.

“Fuckin’ excellent,” Kirk mumbles. “Feels like someone just rammed a— a zucchini up my ass, actually.”

Dave snorts and reaches for a shirt, freckled shoulders flexing as he pulls it over his head. “Size queen.”

“Shut up.”

Kirk rolls over onto his side, facing Dave, and pulls his legs up to his stomach. His asshole twinges a little in protest. “When will the guys get back?”

Dave squints at the alarm clock. “Two hours, maybe three.”

“‘Kay,” Kirk yawns. He lifts a hand to rub groggily at one eye. “‘S it cool if I stay for a sec?”

Dave turns to look at him. “Yeah,” he says quietly, “Get comfy. I’ll wake you up in an hour.”

+

+

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: @[shotgunmessiahs](https://shotgunmessiahs.tumblr.com) 👀
> 
> admittedly not my best dirty talk, nor my best characterization, but i just really fuckin love this pairing. i want more of them !!!
> 
> edit: seriously pls make sure u go check out @[pinkmaggit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkmaggit/pseuds/pinkmaggit)'s art [here](https://pinkmaggitmp3.tumblr.com/post/631252629274640384/so-uhhhh-fratboy-davestoner-kirk-lives) ... 🥺♥️


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